My Heart is Numb, Has No Feeling
by parttimeficwriter
Summary: Very late New Year's fic. H/R implied.


**A very late New Year's fic but the idea walked in to my head when I was too drunk to do anything about it and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. I can't say I'm totally thrilled with it, probably as I've done it so quickly, so apologies if it isn't up to much. Oh and I'm not impressed with the formatting but it won't let me do it any other way. **

**Thank you to everyone who read and or reviewed yesterday's fic. You made my day.**

**The line from the TV show is from Ally McBeal, which I don't own. Nor do I own Spooks as has already been established and the title is from 'Patience' by Take That who I adore but sadly don't own either. **

**Dedicated to my Mum as it's her birthday today and she very graciously let me chuck her off the phone so I could carry on writing. Happy Birthday also to HarryFan aka Rambling Scribe.

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Ruth shuffles about on the sofa and grips the book in front of her harder in an attempt to push out the unwanted thought that is seemingly on a repeated loop in her head. Her lack of concentration frustrates her no end and, after a considerable amount of internal debate, she flings the book to the floor swearing loudly as she does so. She glares unhappily around the empty room and wrings her hands together as she contemplates what she's about to do.

* * *

It had started earlier in the evening as Beth joined her in the living room and asked if she could put the TV on as she did her nails. Smiling wanly Ruth had agreed and engrossed herself further in her book in a bid to halt any and all attempts of small talk or invites to the evening's festivities with her flatmate. Immersing herself in the familiar prose she was able to block out most of the background noise only to find herself pulled from her sanctuary when Beth's mobile rang loudly. As Beth sidled off to the kitchen, flirting with whichever male was flavour of the month, the noise from the TV caught her attention and she squinted at the screen to see what all the kerfuffle was about. Ruth didn't recognise any of the actors, or the setting, nor the programme itself and was about to dismiss it as being of little interest to her when something one of the characters was saying caught her attention. _'If you think back and replay your year, if it doesn't bring you tears either of joy or sadness, consider it wasted.'_ Beth's timely re-entrance had broken her momentary thrall and she had once again taken solace in the printed pages before her.

* * *

Now though she thinks about how that one line has spoken to her, resonating in her head until she flung the book down moments ago. Beth has long since left and she is alone sat in the half-light cast by the table lamp and the tree lights. Self-reflection hasn't been on her agenda for quite some time and she wonders, absently, why she is even considering looking back over the past year. She's lived it. It was horrendous and she's fairly certain next year will be just the same so really, she thinks, she shouldn't bother but there is something, nagging at the back of her mind, that tells her to get on and do it anyway. Her analytical, well ordered mind being what it is she can't help but work through the year in chronological order. She looks at her surroundings and remembers a time when it was just her. She thinks of the time she spent alone in the cold, impersonal flat and compares it to now; the contrast is quite startling. She looks at the shared art that now hangs on the walls injecting colour and warmth into the room, Beth's belongings are, as usual, strewn about the place and Ruth knows with certainty that if she opens the fridge there will be a half decent bottle of wine in there. She blinks in surprise as she finds herself smiling softly and thinking that she much prefers it this way and that her originally unwanted flatmate might not be so unwanted after all.

She remembers Ros dying and how her death took its toll on the team and, in particular, Harry. She thinks of the anger and indignation she felt to be one of only six people at the funeral of a woman who was brave and loyal and too young to have died. She thinks of Harry sitting quietly by her side during the service, offering her his handkerchief when it all got a bit too much. She thinks of the time afterwards in the churchyard when she informed Harry of Nicholas Blake's deceit and realises that she knew then what Harry would do with that information. She feels no guilt at being complicit in his demise instead there is a sense of satisfaction that lingers and when she examines it closely she finds that it has more to do with Harry being the kind of man she has always believed him to be; principled, dedicated and fiercely loyal to those that matter.

Her thoughts are swiftly followed by the memory of Harry, in that same church yard, pressing close to her and whispering his proposal in her ear. Her heart hammers in her chest as she relives the moment and a forgotten burning sensation prickles at the back of her eyes as she sees herself turning him down. She remembers the fear and the guilt and the love that had fought for dominance inside her at that moment and is ashamed to realise that she let the guilt and the fear triumph. She shakes her head and pushes the memory aside unwilling to pick it apart any further for fear that all hell will break loose if she does.

Instead she turns her attention to the choir and remembers the acceptance and warm embrace of her peers. She visualises the last performance she took part in, well over four months ago now, and is startled at the sob that is released from her throat as she remembers the unadulterated joy she felt to be a part of something so beautiful and pure. She remembers how, in the midst of the performance, she felt truly alive and how it felt to be Ruth Evershed. Not the spook, not the flatmate but the woman beneath it all. Tears fall from her eyes at an alarming rate as huge sobs shake her body. It is loud and messy and painful but she doesn't care. She gives herself up to it and is oblivious to anything other than the feelings that have been shaken loose inside her.

The memories don't stop, they keep on coming thick and fast. She isn't surprised that there are a lot of painful memories but is genuinely surprised to find small happy moments in and amongst the rest. Ruth soon realises that Harry features in most, if not all, of her happier thoughts and memories. She pictures his face and is caught off guard by the surge of love and affection that his image has stirred up. It's still there, the love, the hope, the absolute adoration and she laughs and sobs at the same time at the knowledge that her feelings have merely been hidden away somewhere deep inside and not altogether lost as she'd started to believe.

She sits and weeps until she is no longer capable of producing any tears. She feels drained and tired and absurdly happy all at the same time. She is far from alright, she knows this now, there are things, many things that she needs to address fully before she can ever claim to be but she knows that this has been the first step of a long journey. The numbness she has felt for the past few months has receded somewhat but she can sense it lurking in the background of her psyche and she resolves to talk to someone about it. She no longer wants to live like this, to punish herself, and everyone around her, for the choices that have been made and the circumstances that have been thrust upon her.

Her eyes catch the clock on the wall and she realises that it is almost midnight. On impulse she reaches for the phone and dials a number as familiar to her as her own. She wants to start the New Year with hope, and love, and as his warm, rich voice says hello she thinks she might just be able to.

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**Hopefully that wasn't too terrible. As ever your thoughts and comments are appreciated. Thank you for reading. **


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